


Smiling, Too

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [6]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: COC 2020, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), CoC, DAY 6 - WLW, F/F, Genderbending, Girlfriends!, Watford (Simon Snow), fem!SnowBaz, kind of suggestive? I suppose, kissin, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 6 - WLW“Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?''Always,' Carol said, smiling, too.” - Patricia HighsmithBaz and Simon snog. That's it.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Smiling, Too

Snow’s wearing my jersey and I have to remind myself that we’re in public in order to hold my libido at bay. I want to fucking _tackle_ her and _eat_ her. 

But Penelope is in the way and it will ruin my pretentious air if I shove her out of the way in order to snog my girlfriend in the middle of the hallway. Also, we haven’t told anyone about us. (Well, Penelope knows, but that was bound to happen. Nothing in Snow’s life is secret from Penelope Bunce for very long.)

Although, I’m not certain that our clandestine relationship will stay that way if Snow insists on wearing my jersey outside of the comfort of our shared room at the top of a secluded tower (well, sort of secluded - we’ve had noise complaints multiple times, but always under the assumption that we’re fighting). 

I throw a sneer in Snow’s direction when we pass by a gaggle of First Years, just to throw anyone off the scent. Snow winks at me as I’m turning away. I’m walking across the hallway from Penelope and Snow, but I’m just ahead of them enough that in order to look at Snow, I have to whip my head back. And every time I do that, Snow is ready for it, and just looks _so_ beautiful that I’m caught off guard. 

She’s radiant. Even like this - especially like this. She’s got messy hair and sleepy eyes and she’s _wearing my football jersey_ , which makes me buzz with lust. The moment that we’re done with breakfast, I’m going to drag her into my bed and have my way with her. 

\-- 

Snow smells like eggs. 

“You have to brush,” I say, pulling back from the kiss. I’d shoved her against the door the moment that it was shut, but now I’m regretting my decision. 

“What?” she asks, self-consciously reaching up and patting the top of her hair down. “I thought you liked my hair like this.” 

“I do,” I say. _I really do._ “I mean your teeth. You smell like breakfast.” 

Snow pouts. “Baz,” she whines. “If I brush now then I won’t get to hold onto the taste from breakfast. It’s what gets me through the day.” 

I frown. “Ignoring how _disgusting_ that is,” I start. “I don’t want to kiss you with bacon-and-egg breath.” 

“Fine,” she says, still pouting. It won’t break me this time. It won’t. ( _It might_.) She slides out from being pressed against the door and stomps to the en suite. You’d be hard pressed to get Snow not to stomp everywhere. 

“Are you happy now?” she demands, her words slurred around the toothpaste in her mouth. 

I can’t believe I’m in love with this absolute slob. 

“Yes,” I call back, folding my arms and leaning against the door. And I really am. Happy, that is.

I’m even happier when Snow has tackled me to my bed, her arms caging me in as he straddles my hips and puts all of her lovely weight on me. She’s warm and heavy and I feel suffocated in the best way possible when she starts sucking on my neck hard enough to leave bruises that certainly won’t fade within an hour. 

We haven’t talked about how this relationship will move forward. She kissed me last Christmas and then basically insisted that we become girlfriends (which I was very happy to comply with). And when we came back to Watford, it continued, but just not outside our room. Not for any specific reason. I think Snow just is anxious about being out to the entire student body - something I’m not unfamiliar with. 

She’s really pushing her luck with wearing half of my football kit, though. There’s only so far the excuse, “It was dark in our room this morning and I put it on accidentally,” will take us. 

Speaking of the football jersey - I’m really considering putting my hands underneath it. She’s got her arms pressed on either side of my head and I’m digging my nails into her hips whenever she does something particularly wonderful (which has to hurt, but she’s taking it like a champ). The top is already pressed up her stomach and I finally make the decision to push it up further. 

She eggs me on by pressing into me and allowing me to push my hands up her stomach. 

“How the fuck do you get away with this?” I demand immediately, tugging back from her mouth. 

“What?” she asks, dazed. 

I blush a bit - sheepish about my outburst that came from one brush of my fingers against the soft skin of her torso. “Not wearing a bra,” I mumble. 

Snow laughs - perhaps my favorite sound that’s ever graced my ears. She sits up on me and crosses her arms over her chest. “They’re uncomfortable,” she says. “Also, you’re smaller than I am- you could probably get away with it, too.” 

Snow is talking about my tit size and I am blushing harder than I ever have. I open my mouth but Snow stops me with hers. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she mumbles against my mouth, slipping her hands up my front to rest just under my bust. “They’re perfect,” she says. “Not nearly too small.” Before Snow even touches me, she stops kissing me and checks in. 

I nod. Easily. Gladly. 

She moves her hands back down and slips them under my shirt, tugging it up so it’s pressed under my armpits. And when she touches me, my eyes roll back into my head. She’s kissing me again before I can think about it and I’m only vaguely aware of my school-issued shirt getting wrinkly where it’s rolled up. 

Snow’s good at this. I’ll never tell her but my favorite place to be is underneath her with her mouth against mine and her hands everywhere I want them to be. 

We spend the rest of the morning in my bed. (She keeps my jersey on when I tell her what I want to do to her in it.)


End file.
